Hungry Eyes
by absurdvampmuse
Summary: Bellarke. Set after Praimfaya./Clarke made it back on time & to the Ark./ Time hangs heavy on both of their hands and maybe they can be more than each other's distraction./Her fingers went back to the drawing before her, her eyes straying as well. She felt like a different person sitting on the floor before him with her hair loose and guard down. The weight of the world lifted./


**Disclaimer: I don't own the right to the series _The 100._ I am merely borrowing the characters. All I own is my imagination and the laptop I wrote this on.**

 **A/N:** It's been a while since I've actively participated in the Bellarke fandom, but lately I've been rediscovering it and have found a newfound appreciation for the two of them. Hence this fic. I went the romanticized route and decided to give Bellamy and Clarke a breather. I hope that it'll contribute to the tiding over of the wait until the next season airs. I really hope that eventually, something romantic will happen between the two of them, especially since they have so much groundwork to build from. I hope you'll enjoy. :) _(The lovely icon I used for this story is by_ cupcakeblake _on Tumblr)_

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 **Hungry Eyes**

 _Because now you're the train and I'm tied to the track…_

It was a surreal experience, sitting on the floor of what had once been her former cell. Compared to the earth it now felt sterile and colorless, cold even now that she had something to measure it to. Impressions she had only managed to capture in the drawings her fingers used to render almost automatically and ached for once she had finally set foot on solid ground. Naturally, the ache had faded over time, disappearing into the back of her mind as the challenges of life on earth had quickly come to overshadow what she was forced to accept as an impractical hobby.

Just like the practice, the drawing she had left behind on the floor of her cell had faded almost completely. Taken by time, although she could still make out the outlines of a pastime she had left behind on the Ark. Just like the girl she used to be. If she closed her eyes, she could sometimes still see and feel the skin she had been forced to shed in order to become the girl who survived.

Clarke could almost feel the coarse and sooty texture of the charcoal between her fingers, smell the sharpness of the paint as it entered her nostrils, see the vivid colors she always preferred when depicting the earth. She had come full circle, back in the exact spot she had started from. All because they had been given no other viable option. She still had trouble letting herself fully relax and breathe easily, the lines of her body still tight in case she had to jump into action within a single breath. Even though Raven and Monty appeared to have found – at least temporary – solutions to most of their imminent problems.

She had even been able to clean herself off and dress herself in clothes Murphy and Emori had scrounged up during their first run-through of the place. It was a pair of gray sweats and a loose dark-colored men's t-shirt, but they were soft and cleaner than anything she had brought along herself. With her hair hanging long and loose across her shoulders and down her back, she reminded Bellamy of the girl he had so callously and carelessly branded as a Princess. Little did he know that she would be riding on a white horse by his side, brave and fearless as she fully threw herself into the moment and oncoming battle.

She felt his presence as he came to stand in the doorway and she turned her head slightly so she had him in her eyesight. He was still wearing the same clothes, making sure that this place was inhabitable and would remain so first. It was the leader in him, even though his reasons had become far less self-serving and were aimed mainly at looking out for others. Looking out for her when she so recklessly forgot to do so.

"Do you need me?" she asked automatically, scanning for the boots she had left by the door.

Bellamy followed her gaze, lowering his head for a second as he attempted to hide a chuckle. "You know we'd be lost without you, Clarke, but for the moment everything's under control.

She considered his words for a few beats, but upon failing to locate the sarcasm behind them she followed his implicit demand and allowed herself, finally, to relax. Her shoulders sagged as they gave in, the tension visibly seeping from her body. Her feet, which had been both placed flat on the floor together with her hands so she could push herself upwards in one fluid and quick movement, maneuvered so they were to the side of her.

"We got this covered," he spoke as he stepped into the cell. "We got here. The rest will work out as well. The most important stuff already has by Raven and Monty," he comforted her as he walked further into the room, pausing when he was only a few steps away from Clarke.

"They deserve a break."

He smiled at her suggestion. "Already done."

"What about you?" She didn't move from her vulnerable position on the floor as she looked up at him expectantly. So different from the way she had looked up at him during their first encounters, intimidated by his long and muscled frame as it towered over her and the pride that could turn his eyes almost golden. Now his brown eyes were warm and protective, fiercely so at times, especially when it came to Octavia. And to her but those were words he wasn't ready to say out loud. "You need to take a break too," she urged.

He let out a guttural chuckle, laughing at a memory of the two of them where there had been an utterly different kind of tension between them. He ran a hand across his face before slipping it into his pocket. "Looking out for me, huh, what a far way we have come indeed."

Clarke nodded in agreement. "It helps that you've humbled yourself along the way and realized that your charm wasn't enough to turn me into one of your groupies. Remember how some of them were privileged enough to spend the night in your tent?" she asked rhetorically. "You must look back on those memories fondly." The smile she gave him was a sickly sweet one.

Bellamy rolled his eyes, yet recognizing some of the truth behind her words. He had been on a power trip when they had first landed, positioning himself into the leader role so he could reap the benefits that came with it. His own tent, more food. It was hard to believe when he thought back on it, acting just as entitled as he had made Clarke out to be.

"You're no longer that person, you know," she softened the blow as she saw the emotions flicker through his eyes. "I wouldn't have trusted anybody else with my life." She held his gaze long enough for him to snap out of it, looking away before his eyes got the chance to wander to other parts of her face.

"Yeah, you are a bit of a control freak." It was a light-hearted remark, perhaps even a compliment, an acknowledgment of one of her strengths that had pulled him through when it had become even too dark for him to see the way out. His eyes landed on the faint lines in front of the blond at his feet, tracing them in an attempt to see what she saw.

"It's hard to picture how this place used to be bustling with life," Clarke broke the silence before it could go on for too long. "With people. Even harder to think about all the ones we've lost."

Bellamy nodded even though she wasn't looking at him. "Do you ever think about them?"

Clarke gave a single nod. "All the time. So I don't forget. Finn is the one that crosses my mind the most." Her eyes glazed over as some of her memories with him played themselves out in her head, like a movie that you'd seen one time in your childhood and had instantly become your favorite.

He leaned over and placed his hand on her shoulder for a handful of seconds. She briefly touched her fingers to his hand. "He was the only one I let close to me. Personally, intimately. Just wholly." she admitted out loud. "More than just the physical comfort I deem to be enough now."

"Imagine how hard it must have been for me," Bellamy quipped.

"Oh, come on, you've never had trouble fulfilling that part." She had meant to give the comment flippantly like it was something that had come to her mind out of the blue. Instead, the words had an edge to them, conveying an ugly emotion she had never intended to come to light. The jealousy had been there ever since the beginning - of the ease at which he could wrap even the fiercest girl around his finger, even though she knew that she was more capable than all of them. They had all failed to hold his attention for more than a few days, while he always kept her in his sights. The green-eyed monster barely managed to scratch her skin at first, but now she could practically feel it clawing at her heart.

"Well, believe it or not, I would also like something more than that."

Clarke shrugged up her shoulders in response. "It's not hard to believe. I've always known it was just an act." Her eyes touched on his as she shared a small smile with him as if referring to a secret between the two of them. "But we endured so others could live."

"Survival was on our minds," he agreed.

Her fingers went back to the drawing before her, her eyes straying as well. And he crouched down to take a closer look too. He followed the lines her fingers traced as if she was guiding him. She felt like a different person sitting on the floor next to him with her hair loose and guard down. It was a feeling of calmness and security even that settled over them, the weight of the world lifted off their shoulders for a few breaths.

As if instinctively aware of the sensation, Clarke confessed, "I trust you, Bellamy."

And while he appreciated the gesture and what it symbolized, he could only shake his head with almost a wistful look in his eyes. "Not fully."

"For as much as I can then," she admitted. "It's a defense mechanism."

"Armor," he chimed in.

Clarke nodded, the wistfulness audible in her voice as she went on, "I used to have an open heart, at least according to my mom." She gestured at the drawing as if it would prove her point.

"I remember you making these in here. And seeing you around the Ark, clothes splattered with paint or fingertips black…"

"Charcoal," Clarke filled in for him. She caught his eyes with her own. "It was a bitch to get off."

He gave her a few moments before replying to her earlier admission. "And it's okay that you don't trust me completely. Or the others." He nodded at the door behind them. "It doesn't mean that you care about, us, me any less. You do keep them closer to you."

His words showed her that he had been paying attention from the very beginning and that he was far more perceptive than she had given him credit for. A sudden feeling of yearning came over her, filling her from the inside out. It was a frantic sort of energy that resulted in her blurting out, "I missed you." A faint blush colored her cheeks, a shade he rarely got to see anymore now that the world had gotten a hold of her. She couldn't look at him and it made his lips twitch with delight. "Every time we wouldn't see each other for a while, I would miss you," she tried her best at explaining it to him. "Just you being around and all the things you contributed when you were. The comfort, strength, assurance, safety. The intimacy," she finished her list with almost a whisper, afraid to so much as glance over at him. It was silly and unfounded but she had this fear that he would simply get up and leave, despite still feeling him beside her. His proximity burned into her skin now that she time to really center on it.

"That's a compliment coming from the all mighty Wanheda."

She rolled her eyes, finally looking over at him, at the audacious grin plastered on his face and eyes glittering with faux coyness. "You and nicknames."

"You've come a long way, Princess. We both have." He tilted his head slightly so some of his unruly curls came tumbling over his forehead, almost long enough to fall into his eyes.

She curled her fingers inwards as she fought against the sudden longing she had to reach out and touch the dark locks, wanting to feel their satin-like texture between her fingers. In the same way, he had experimentally brushed his fingers against her skin not so long ago. Just the thought sent a shiver down her spine, a spark of electricity that could so easily cause a reaction if it came into contact with so much as a sliver of his skin. They would both short-circuit on all that excess current. She managed a weak nod, eyes downcast as she disclosed to him, "And despite coming so far, I still miss being up here sometimes. The memories."

Bellamy placed his hands on his thighs and pushed himself back up into a standing position, his features setting instantaneously and turning hard, strenuous to read. "I wish I could say the same, but things weren't as pleasant for me. Or Octavia."

His expression changed into a pained one and Clarke was compelled to grab his hand with her own. And she did. "You will see her again," she assured him. "She's a warrior. A survivor."

A wishful smile cracked Bellamy's exterior. "Speaking of metamorphoses… I remember how she used to hate getting dirt under her fingernails…" He trailed off affectionately and Clarke squeezed his hand.

He looked down at her, his smile widening at the awkward position they were in. "I say we find the others and figure out sleeping arrangements."

He pulled her up effortlessly and she leaned into him intuitively. Bellamy let her, hyper aware of where her hands made contact with him as feelings that been pushed to the back, suppressed, were stirring.

A burst of startled laughter escaped him, holding her attention. "Sometimes I forget."

"Forget wh—"

"That we're of the opposite sex."

Her brow crinkled in confusion.

"That I'm a man and you're a woman."

"Bell—"

"And how close we actually are"

Clarke couldn't help but smile at the silliness of his revelation. "Well, opposites do—"

"Or like calls to like," he cut her off.

Her eyes lit up with amusement, though she wondered if it was merely a guise, an artificially added layer kept in place only to act as a safeguard of sorts. "The Princess and the brute," she said the final word through a soft laugh, pressing her palms down against his chest as if it would somehow emphasize her point.

Not wanting to scare off this more accessible side of her, Bellamy reacted just as playfully by gently squeezing her sides. Clarke giggled, reacting to the tickling sensation of his fingers as they skimmed her ribs. She covered her mouth in surprise at the sound; it was one that belonged in the past and had no place in this harsh and bleak reality. Her eyes shot up to Bellamy's face, but he repeated his action and elicited the exact same reaction as before.

Clarke squirmed against him in her attempts to create distance and escape his hands, but she only succeeded in backing herself up against the wall.

His body covered her, its proximity affecting her more than it should have. They were used to being in close quarters and even the occasional comforting touch from one another. But this felt different. There was no pressing matter to discourage them, no reason for them to overthink. What would the worst of the consequences be of their impulsivity?

"All this time and you tell me that all it would've taken to defeat Wanheda is—" His train of thought was disrupted as Clarke's hands found his abdomen and she now touched her fingers to his ribs.

He didn't react visibly, which was the reason for Clarke's huff of frustration, but he was holding his breath.

Not one to give up, Clarke's second attempt was more vigorous and vicious as she slipped her hands beneath the shirt he was wearing, fingers now brushing directly against his bare skin.

Bellamy sucked in a breath at the contact and Clarke moved to pull back, retreat as she misread his response. However, Bellamy clasped her upper arms and kept her hands right where they were.

"It's been a while since I've had someone, anyone touch me like that," he shared. Every part of him was reacting to her closeness and every inch of him was incredibly sensitive to the feeling of her against him, beneath him.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but then seemed to rethink her words and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip instead. A flush tinted her face and his curiosity was almost too much.

"Clarke, tell me."

She stubbornly shook her head, though the words came out anyway. "Have you ever thought about us like—" Unable to finish her thought, she bit her tongue.

Bellamy had been on the edge, ready to jump off with her and let his body freefall. Teetering right there on the edge was the sweetest of sensations as the anticipation was all that was preventing his plummet into the unknown.

"Have you?" he asked as both his grip and gaze intensified, his eyes now the shade of hot chocolate and smoldering. He brought his body closer to hers as he took note of how she still hadn't moved her hands from his stomach. "If it would make you more comfortable, Princess, I have no problem being chivalrous and speaking on that first."

In his brashness, Bellamy made the first move, something about words versus actions going through his mind. One hand remained on her hip while he cupped her face with the other. He held his hand there as he leaned over her until she could feel his lips against her collarbone. A single, gentle press of his lips before they trailed over to the hollow in her throat, this time sucking delicately. Clarke let her head fall back against the wall, one hand creeping upwards to keep him in place, fingers applying light pressure on the back of his head. The fingers of her other hand splayed out against his abdomen as she held on.

"Is that a yes?" Her tone was just a little cocky, making him smile against her skin.

Her nails dug in just enough to elicit a groan from him just as his tongue against the hollow of her throat evoked a moan out of her.

A shudder passed through him, or maybe through him. She could swear that they were short-circuiting, or that lightning had struck them both. Either way, it didn't matter. Her eyes fell closed just as he paused a second to look at her, his lips hovering a fingerbreadth from hers.

He exhaled and she inhaled.

If she had believed in magic, she would have chosen that word to describe what was happening between the two of them. And if he had believed in fate, he might have used a word similar to that to characterize this moment.

The stars had aligned themselves for them.

Still, perfection was mythical, especially for Bellamy and Clarke.

So they had to put it on hold when they heard the approaching footsteps and nearing voices, yelling out their names and something about how there was enough room to go around.

This time she exhaled and he was the one to inhale as both came to terms with what had just taken place. Bellamy released her, retracting so there was space between them once more. Clarke watched as he adjusted his shirt.

Feeling her eyes on him, he flicked his upwards with a smug smirk. "I think you might have to take back your words. The ones about how my charm didn't work on you."

Clarke rolled her eyes, silencing him by giving him a firm shove. "You're already making me regret this." She headed for the exit, fingers briefly brushing against where he had kissed her throat.

"Whatever you say, Princess," Bellamy replied from behind her.

She didn't need to look back at him to know that his eyes were on her.

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 **Please review?** I would really appreciate it if you took the time to leave behind feedback. And while you're at it, suggestions to really great Bellarke stories would also be extremely welcome! I've been out of this fandom for a little while, so there is so much ground to cover. A starting point would definitely help. :)


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